Birds of a Feather
by mricj
Summary: In April of 1940 a wounded soldier and an outsider, James Fraser, and a WWII nurse, Claire Randall, meet for the first time. Slow burn.


Almost six years ago, Georgina left Inverness for the first time - searching for something bigger, searching for something as silly as her true and only love - and truth be told, never once did she thought she'd miss the slow pace of it. But then again, back in the day, the war wasn't in its highest point. Back in the day, she didn't use to be a mother, and after four months in the front line, Georgina can't say she misses any of it. After a while, the sound of bombs falling from the sky became overwhelming and wounded soldiers' piercing screams, echoing through the air in the middle of the night, has never been exactly pleasant, either.

Right now, as Georgina watches bright green hills and the cloudy skies passing by, all she manages to think of is her family - she thinks of holding Da close and eating Mam's homemade meal. Then, Georgina thinks of wrapping her arms around Jessie, her wee lass, as she tells her tales about the war, both of them patiently waiting for her Da to come back and join them. She never thought she'd say this but, at the end of the day, Georgina is almost thankful for the man that put two bullets in her stomach - he _is_ the one responsible for her being discharged, after all.

And it's among those bright green hills and cloudy skies, as fresh air blows against the softness of her cheeks and birds dance around the sky, that Georgina notices it - Craigh na Dun, the circle of stones. She remembers being a bairn and anxiously waiting for the bedtime stories - sometimes it'd be about the fairies, sometimes about the long lost women- and remembers hearing the whispers around the school about Mam's odd... _activities_ and honestly, Georgina has never cared to any of it nor has she ever believed. That is, until she sees it - a passed out man on the road, wearing what it looks like a kilt and the last time Georgina remembers someone wearing such formal attire was her husband on the day they wed.

The sight is strange by itself and regardless of the situation, and what her mind keeps trying to tell her, Georgina chooses the logical part of it. She stops the car and steps out, and it isn't until she heads towards the limp - and almost lifeless - body ahead of her that she notices it; the bloodied shirt, and as she moves it out of the way, the deep and still fresh wounds - Georgina is almost certain now that the lad is, in fact, a captured soldier. The Germans aren't exactly known for hesitating before the use of brute force and the idea of them lashing the lad and dropping him in the middle of nowhere, so he dies from an infection or dehydration, whatever gets to him first, doesn't surprise her.

Anger, something Georgina hasn't felt since the night the base was attacked, suddenly fills her - the images of her fellow nurses and recovering soldiers being murdered or taken right in front her flashes through her mind, and she has to control herself to not let the tears escape her eyes. Right now, she's more than just willing to help him; this lad, whoever he is, is surviving, and then she's sending him back to his family.

"Dinna fash now, soldier," Her voice sounds the same as it always has - distant, and at the same time pleasant and soothing. Over the months she spent in France, it quickly becomes her motto and in a way, it helps them to get back on their feet, "Yer in good hands - I'm Nurse MacDonald and I'll be assistin' ye today."

Surprisingly enough, the pain isn't what wakes him up this time, no; it's the too small and not so gentle hands all over him, prodding and pushing wherever they can. Jamie opens his eyes - the brightest shade of blue she has ever seen in the sunlight - and part of him isn't sure what comes to him first; the so familiar Scottish accent or the surname.

"Can ye tell me yer name, soldier?

For someone with such small hands, she proves herself to be incredibly fierce - with a gentler touch now, she manages to roll him on his back, and Jamie can't help himself but hiss at the sudden pressure on the still open cuts. One of Georgina's hands lands on his sweaty forehead - feverish due to the wounds and probably something she doesn't need to be worrying about just yet - as the other moves to the side of his neck, her fingers pressuring the skin underneath. She doesn't seem to be paying attention to his face now; instead, Georgina's eyes focuses on the... _watch_ _strapped around her wrist_ , quietly counting from one to sixty under her breath.

It isn't until the moment Jamie doesn't feel her moving any further that he sees it - bare legs, as naked as they were on the day this woman was born. Part of him fights to not let how surprised he actually is how, and the other half makes an effort to bit his tongue - can he, or anyone else for that matter, expect anything else from a MacDonald? Right now, part of James Fraser is as good as dead, and he doesn't intend on killing the other half for a stupid comment; bare legs or not, her men must be hiding in the shadows, ready to protect their woman's honor.

"Dinna stare me like that - I ha'e told ye mine, ken," As much as her tones comes out harsh, Jamie can see there's amusement in her words, hiding itself behind her eyes. It's clear as day she's happy with the soldier's response to all the not so subtle touches - and Jamie immediately realizes she indeed has a kind soul. Georgina doesn't focus on him until she has the results in her hands - she _has_ seen better ones, even while working on the front line, but given the way she found this man a few minutes ago, Georgina knows she can't exactly expect much better. His pulse is weak but steady, and his breathing shallow, and although the sweat means the soldier's fever has been broken recently, Georgina can't assure herself it isn't coming back later, "'Tis only fair - and the only way we can make this work."

If Georgina manages to take him somewhere safe, somewhere he can get proper treatment, he might be able to go home in a matter of weeks, maybe even days, "'Tis only fair - and the only way we can make this work."

"'Tis Malcolm Alexander, lass," His voice is hoarse and full of bravado; if the bright copper color of his hair doesn't give him away, then his name certainly would - judging by the way the sun hangs high in the sky, more than just a few hours has passed since Jamie lost Dougal and his men, and the word of how he broke out of prison must be all over the Highlands by now. Rivals or not, MacDonald's were Scots at heart, and have seen and suffered from English's cruelty, and as much as Jamie doubts they'd tell on him, he isn't taking any chances. One can never be too sure, "My name is James Malcolm Alexander."

* * *

 **A/N: In case you're wondering, nope, Georgina isn't going to be a huge part of this. Nor is she going to be Jamie's love interest. Claire will be joining the story, but it'll take one or two chapters, maybe even sooner than that.**

 **Thanks for reading, reviews are always appreciated.**


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